


Wanton

by Miss_M



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casual Sex, F/M, Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne attempt a casual relationship. Feelings happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanton

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been planning this short ‘n’ sweet piece for a few days now, inspired by Armin van Buuren’s “Waiting for the Night.” But then I saw the good people of Tumblr demand a J/B friends-with-benefits AU, and while this is not exactly that, I simply could not delay writing this any longer. Enjoy!

Brienne keeps her cool during the day. At work, at the store, riding the metro, she is calm, collected. She is a woman who works, and pays her own rent, and keeps her life tidily sorted. She elbows shadows out of her way, does not think of him. Does not let her heart speed up. 

In the day, she is not someone who expects to be disappointed, even accepts regret as the price for the way her breasts tingle afterward with the sense-memory of his stubble. How she feels wobbly even though she knows she is not. How his chuckle when he sees her almost steady herself on the dresser as she walks gingerly to the bathroom will make her lips feel swollen and wanting again. Wanton. She understands that word now. It means someone who knows pleasure is a bottomless pit, but keeps flinging herself down it regardless. 

Night falls, and she closes her front door and tells herself it will be different. She will cook dinner, spend the evening alone. If the doorbell rings, she need not answer.

She always answers, and looks at herself with only the slightest sense of betrayal as he presses her against the coat stand, his mouth on her like he has thought of nothing else all day. She has never been in his apartment, never met any of his family. She tells herself one evening she will insist they watch a movie or just sit, that one evening he will not have her wet and trying to make their skins one before they are even in her bedroom, before she has done much more than take off his shirt and smell him. 

If only he knew when to stop. Not knock her off her high with cutting, ambiguous words made poison-sweet by a smile to match. Not hold out a promise which is no promise, then leave her to hug a pillow, feeling lust, regret, weakness. She does not throw him out, but she does not demand either. 

There is nothing different about tonight. Brienne feels like a gasping puddle ( _wanton_ ), Jaime’s arm heavy on her torso, his breathing deepening toward the inevitable words. The nightly kiss-off. 

“I wanted that all day,” he says at last, and she wants to grit her teeth. Punch him. She is still clenching a little and wants him again already. Bastard. 

She turns her head to say something clumsy and sharp, to make him leave at once, make him mock her. Stops when she sees it: vanity and want, pride and desire locked in battle behind his eyes. Maybe he feels wanton, too. The realization makes her head spin, makes her feel like she does when she knows she is about to come and her body tells him so ( _his words undulating smugly while his hips move, ragged_ ). 

“Stay,” she says, like the word is easy, light. All night, she wants to say. We will run all night, and they will never catch us. We will outrun the sun. “You could stay,” and she knows she is repeating herself, she is begging, she is a fool. 

“Stay?” He turns the word against the light, examines its reflections. “Yes. I could.” 

It is not a promise, it is not anything, Brienne cautions herself. Nothing she can hold in her hand. She curves her palms over his hip, behind his neck, his hands on her as though they belong there. She has to close her eyes, the night shines so bright inside her head. Feels his breath on her face, his knee between her thighs, he likes to watch her fall apart. Watching her as he stays. Stays.


End file.
